


Welcome to Beacon Hills: The Sheriff Election

by LLitchi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Welcome to Night Vale fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:57:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLitchi/pseuds/LLitchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles hosts the Welcome to Beacon Hills radio show, crushes on a werewolf who’s just moved back into town, and tries to get the town to reelect John Stilinski as Sheriff of the Secret Police.</p><p>Welcome to Night Vale/Teen Wolf fusion, in which no intern dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to Beacon Hills: The Sheriff Election

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely and patient tropes, who I must have hypnotized with run-on sentences and questionable grammar.

Welcome to Beacon Hills, guys. If this is your first time listening and you’ve just come across the show surfing aimlessly on the frequencies of life, don’t be shy, _we get all sorts around here_. If you are a returning listener, the next show will be broadcast on the first Wednesday of the second February of the year, and we’re super excited about that. We’re less excited about Coach Finstock, who will go on as guest because he has been begging me for a spot for a while. He will talk about lacrosse training and guys, if you are young, avid lacrosse fans who can’t wait to get on the school team, I recommend you skip this one.

As we all know, the Sheriff election is coming up, and you should totally vote for John Stilinski—you know, my dad—who is so far running uncontested for reelection. This might not strictly be ethical journalism, but come on, guys, it’s my dad. He’s been protecting the town from supernatural forces and making dubious backroom deals with the hunters for nearly a decade. Which reminds me, _Hi, Dad,_ remember, what you love will always kill you, no matter how good and delicious they are.

This just in, our intern Scott has spied a new man pulling into town. “I’ve never seen him before, Stiles,” says Scott, who’s also never seen Star Wars before. “This is so strange, how could a stranger just pass the town limits without spontaneously combusting into a million fleshy pieces?” Scott, for shame. You have just made me lose my two most recent meals to a Safeway paper bag. It’s just…you know how these things make me; it’s hard enough living in a town like Beacon Hills where the streets are constantly covered with the bloody carnage of house pets always committing suicide at sunset as it is.

In other news, the Beacon Hills High School lacrosse team members who turn 15 this year have just received their lycanthropic upgrade. The upgrade, in the form of a skin puncturing bite, is administered in an extremely painful and unsanitary process. Coach Finstock has been quoted as saying that “it doesn’t matter if they get tetanus or not anyway, because the players will either die or just turn into a werewolf and heal right back up.” There has so far been no study on the correlation between players dying of tetanus and dying of the lycanthropic upgrade. We only know that some player always dies each year and that no one has refused the upgrade, ever. “It’s like undetectable steroids,” Jackson Whittemore says in an interview. Jackson Whittemore, what an asshole. He has only become more of an asshole ever since he traded in his conscience for eternal youth and beauty with the local vampire coven. “Why don’t you say that to my face, Stilinski,” Jackson Whittemore shrieks indignantly at the sky. Oh I’ll be there alright, after the show, and I will kick your ass so hard it will separate from your physical body and I will shove it back into your face. Report says Jackson blinks in confusion, muttering, “Your insults never make sense, loser.”

Breaking news, Peter Hale, who resembles a male cougar more than a werewolf widower, is running for Sheriff against the Sheriff—you know, my dad. He has reportedly secured the support of half of Beacon Hills’ female and a fifth of the male population. My dad is still solidly in the lead with the hunters, whose shadowy existence we are technically not supposed to acknowledge on air, but Chris Argent never listens to the show anyway because he claims that my voice is too annoying and my attitude is too unprofessional. We are all entitled to our opinions, I suppose, even the wrong ones.

The werewolves’ votes are expected to be divided. Intern Scott, for example, has confided that he believed Peter’s politics were too radical, that he knows other werewolves who feel the same way, and that anyway one of Peter’s promises had been to give the lycanthropic bite to a beloved radio personality against his will. As the beloved radio personality in question, I must agree.

In community news, Beacon Hills’ only veterinarian has resumed his business practice after a week long battle with the Common Cold. He has once again heroically fought her off this year, and thus saved Beacon Hills from exhausting its supply of tissue paper, cough drops and chicken soup. When asked to immortalize his battles in epic poetry, he politely looks witheringly at the reporter.

We have more information on one of our earlier stories. The new, tall, dark and handsome mysterious man who pulled into town in a Camaro, i.e., sex on four wheels, is actually a werewolf. Obviously the reason he did not simultaneously combust into a million pieces upon arrival is because he is Derek Hale, who left Beacon Hills ten years ago when his family house burned down. So he is not an outsider after all. Of course, it only raises the question of how he _managed to leave Beacon Hills_ in the first place. This intel is provided by our listener Greenburg, who snapped a shot of Derek Hale slinking sensuously across the Preserve in a shiny leather jacket and tight, tight pants.

Intern Scott has incidentally, once again, missed all pertinent information. The public wants to know, Scotty, about the thigh muscles and the leather jacket and you are going to stalk Derek Hale until he tells you whether or not he already has a significant other. What’s that, et tu brute, trespassing laws, invasion of privacy? _Fine_ , _I_ will do it myself.

A quick announcement from the secret police. Human Beacon Hills citizens should not approach the abandoned train cars, the abandoned bank vaults or the abandoned shopping mall. These venues are reserved for other purposes. For example, the abandoned train cars serve as community housing for displaced werewolves. The abandoned bank vaults and the abandoned shopping mall, on the other hand, hold a fight to the death once every month when the moon is as crimson as the color of freshly spilled blood. Newly turned werewolves who hear the moon calling for them in their very marrow are also advised to stay away.

Guys, we have another follow-up on the new-old werewolf in town. I, yes, I—yours truly—am investigating the case myself. Our sources have contacted Derek Hale hoping for an interview. An endorsement for acting Sheriff John Stilinski—you know, my dad—against Derek Hale’s own uncle would not go amiss either.

[Rustling]

[Gruff voice] You’re trespassing.

Hi, hello, we’re from Beacon Hills radio station?

[Gruff voice] This is private property.

That’s kind of implied with the trespassing.

[Growling]

[High-pitched voice] Okay, our intern Isaac talked with you on the phone? Isaac did mention an interview. Are you ready for us now?

[Rustling]

Whoa hey, hi, that’s up close and personal.

[Huffing] [Gruff voice] I can’t believe this.

What, do you have a problem? Spit it out, buddy.

Stiles, don’t _provoke_ him.

[Sniffing]

…

[More sniffing]

Oh my God is this normal? Scott, tell me this is normal.

Uh, I don’t think…

[Even more sniffing] [Defeated whine, almost too low to hear] I can’t believe you’re my mate.

[Choking] What was that?

[Complaining] But you’re so skinny and excitable, and what did I ever do to deserve a mate with a propensity for _trespassing_?

Excuse me? I am packing _guns_ , rudewolf.

Stiles, let’s get out of here, please? Isaac’s calling me and saying that he actually only got Derek Hale’s voice mail and he called back five minutes ago and kind of said no.

[Rustling]

Well, guys, wasn’t that just rude! I’m now safely back in my studio and my heart is still beating wildly inside my chest. Derek Hale with his perfectly chiseled face and his kissable stubble and his pale green eyes and his earthy musk and—and guys, intern Scott has just informed me that Welcome to Beacon Hills now comes attached with a Parental Guidance warning. Can I talk about Derek Hale’s ass now? No? How about his jaw line? He has unfortunate teeth, did you know that? Anyway, this has been one of the scariest and hottest experiences of my life.

Jennifer Blake has just started a new, exciting petition to remove hunters and werewolves’ skirmishes from the site of Beacon Hills High School. Classes face frequent disruptions, she says, and school property damage has stalled lab sessions as well as band practice. Ms. Blake also cites the danger of staying after school hours. Personally, I think she just wants more students to stay after school so that she can feed on them. Popular opinions differ as to which supernatural category Ms. Blake actually belongs, but she must be an incubus, right? There is no other explanation for the fact that five Beacon Hills habitual gossipers, including the venerable Melissa McCall, have now reported instantaneous sexual chemistry between Derek Hale and Ms. Blake. The reports might be premature, guys, because two attractive people in close proximity does not automatic chemistry make, to the dismay of many a TV show writer.

We have an unconfirmed report from our not-so-friendly neighborhood banshee Lydia Martin, who says she has found the grotesque corpse of Sheriff candidate Peter Hale in the woods. Peter Hale reportedly has his throat torn out and an expression of pure, unadulterated rage on his face. In the opinion of this radio anchor, Peter Hale’s violent death is just another in the long line of publicity stunts from his PR team. On the day before the election, Peter Hale will likely come back to life in an unnecessarily elaborate ritual.

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[Static] Stiles, you should come see this.

[Static] _Oh my God what is that?_

[Heaving]

That is a dead stag on the front doors of the station, Stiles.

Why do you sound so calm? Scott, Scotty, is this a prank? Oh my God, is it still bleeding?

I’m calm because I’m in shock, Stiles! I wouldn’t play a prank like this on you. Derek Hale’s the one who left the stag here, I can smell him.

[Statics dying out]

Guys, according to the Beacon Hills Supernatural Handbook, a dead, large animal left on your front doors is a declaration of intent. When we have lifted the stag up, we could see a message in blood addressed to me under the poor creature. It says, “Meet me at Arby’s parking lot after the show.” Dear beloved listeners, friends, family members, I am scared for my life, tragically cut short in its prime for a careless mistake.

I leave you now with a heavy heart. But! At any moment in time we may accidentally incur the wrath of a werewolf, so let us take this one to appreciate the evanescence of life, to grieve the small deaths of the passing days, to ponder the paradox of their death and simultaneous rebirth. Goodnight, Beacon Hills. Goodnight.

 

Today’s proverb: What doesn’t kill you will transport you to another dimension and leave an indefinable darkness around your heart.

 


End file.
